The PokeLord of the Rings
by pinkdragonflame
Summary: Neither rain, nor sleet, nor nine deranged Riders shall keep Ash and Co. from defeating Sal-Mon the Great and his even Greater Ring!
1. Prologue

LOTR/Pokemon crossover

Disclaimer: Pinky doth not ownth LOTR or pokemon. I tried to get them to say otherwise, but they just wouldn't have it.

'Lo all! Behold-Pinky lives again! 'Tis the season to the merry and relaxed and totally free-at least until I get my exam results anyway! O__O; But what the hell…better to have lived and enjoyed, than never to have lived at all, ne? ^^ 

Anyways, behold the latest result of Nothing-To-Do-ness-this fic! 'Tis a cross between LOTR 'n pokemon, it is! *nods head* Yep yep! It's also testament to the fact that I've now officially lost it. It's definitely a humour fic…but I doubt they'll be any random insanity. Um…ok…no promises…^^; There WILL be Ho-oh, Lugia, Suicune and Mewtwo, though. As well as the other legendaries, if mes can squeeze them in (ignores protests). There's gonna be character-bashing. Duh. Just so you know…if you didn't already…Why? So that I know that you know that I know that the fic knows that the character knows…that…oh meeble, there go my rationalizing skills…

Oh yeah, since, I'm experiencing a big fat brain freeze when it comes to names manipul-err…used…yeah, used^^;, if ya got any suggestions or want to be randomly inserted as a random LOTR character randomly, drop me a review. As long as it hasn't been used that often yet, I'm willing to consider it. See? Pinky ain't so evil after all!

(Sauron: *bagged by salamander3, now known as Sal-Mon*)

Chapter 1

Prologue: Of the questionable history of the Ring

There was a time in the history of Downtown Kanto, where truth, justice, peace and love were valiantly upheld by the gallant races that walked the earth. Where people, monsters and random unidentifiables could join hands upon stepping out in the street without the fear of being branded as freaks or outcaste circus groupies. Where the evil facades of the dark and the grim shied away from the shining goodness of life as a whole. This was, of course, not one of those times. 

Even as I type-or you, in your case, read-the dark hand of the dark lord sitting upon his even darker throne in the darkest land of all reaches into the untainted depths of mortality, seeking to bend all the slow, unwitting, and/or just plain unlucky towards his corruptive influence. This lord's name was Salmon. Or, as it was officially recorded: Sal-Mon. The hyphen was self-inserted for the sake of blatantly trying to conceal his background into one of elfish ancestry. The strange part about this fiendish plot was that it actually worked. 

Now, Sal-Mon may have been a Raichu, but he was also an evil Raichu. With an evil army, and an evil castle, and an evil doormat, and an evil plot. Did I mention that he was evil? Good. Sal-Mon seeked revenge against all the idiots in his youth who uncaring trampled the very vestiges of Raichu dignity by insulting his name, and his incessant squeaking habits. Of course, they were all trampled upon in return, but that was beside the point. Sal-Mon figured that since the world was already full of corrupt, blackmailing, backstabbing drones, it would be so much more proficient to turn it into a society full of corrupt, blackmailing, backstabbing drones that _worshipped and idolized him_! Or suffered in torment. Either way, he would be happy. So, Sal-Mon set out to achieve this goal by forging the One Ring. Why the One Ring? Well, Ho-oh granted the Wise-Trio three rings, for the domination of secret cookie recipes. Lugia granted the Pokemarts seven rings for the instant baking of muffins. And Mewtwo granted the Gym Leaders nine rings, just because he felt like it. They were all the rage. Besides, Sal-Mon liked things that were shiny. Preferably sharp too.

With sweat and muscle and toil and magic, the great ring was forged. From the fiery depths of Mt. Motar, Sal-Mon emerged, starry-eyed, rumpled, and slightly charred, but triumphant nevertheless. For there, within the palm of his paw, lay the object he had etched his heart, soul, and mind into. Twin souls in evil, they were, mirrors for each other in a cause that could not be darker. The pulse of hatred and malice throbbed deep within the cooling metal, never to be erased, or tainted. From that day forth, he was Sal-Mon no longer. He was Lord. For wearing that Ring, no army could hope to face him in battle and live. Neither sea nor mountain nor giant rampaging Onix should stand in his way every again. He would be invincible; inevitable; incredible-Then, Sal-Mon realised something that he hadn't before, and the obvious struck home with the force of a Fire Blast. He had no fingers.

But did that stop Sal-Mon? No, of course it didn't! The evil warlord Raichu merely fumbled with the ring between his two paws and reasoned that a lack of appendages did not necessarily lead to a lack of accomplishments. He took two deep breaths, twitched his ears, and counted backwards from fifty. When all that was done, he finally deemed that he was calm enough to start back.

Fourteen Thunderbolts, ten Thunders, five death glares, two assorted stranglings and twenty droppings of the aforementioned ticket to glory later, Sal-Mon finally arrived back at his HQ. And where was the HQ, you may ask? Why, it lay in the Author's Lounge; the Lounge where the shadows lie. Once again, Sal-Mon had exerted his powerful and commanding influence upon those around him, seizing the kind-of-deserted-but-otherwise-more-or-less-happy place for his own dark purposes. The generous donations of caramel cookies to the Lounge's previous inhabitants only served to speed up the process. 

Thus heralded the dawn of the Dark Ages of Downtown Kanto. Massive armies of cannibalistic Pikachu, bred from their original peace-loving race, pillaged towns, ransacked houses, and more or less destroyed everything. Black, skeletal Charizards, their loose hides hanging from their bones, lay waste to everything else. That obviously meant that the giant, self-imploding Golems had nothing to do, and they spent their time playing poker and blackjack. The Free-But-Soon-To-Be-Toast Peoples of Downtown Kanto decided that it was time to strike back, and prevent the forces of Sal-Mon from taking what was rightfully theirs. 

So they challenged him.

They challenged the invincible; inevitable; incredible Lord with his nifty ring.

On his doorstep.

Disguised as insurance salesmen.

It was probably the five hundred Dragonair troops stationed not-so-inconspicuously behind the group of shifty humans that gave them away. Or maybe Sal-Mon just didn't like instant sushi. In either case, he summoned his evil, dark, malicious, twisted, and not-at-all-nice army to combat the Free Peoples. Bummer.

Eventually, however, despite being on the losing end of the battle, the Free Peoples won anyway. The sequence of events went something like this:

Charizards trampled the Free Peoples.

Pikachu shocked the Dragonair.

Golem and Sal-Mon played poker. 

Degenerate prisoner-of-war; a trainer by the name of Sephen, brought before Sal-Mon.

Sal-Mon laughed in his face and tried to use the Ring to turn him into a shoe.

Sal-Mon dropped the ring.

Sephen grabbed the ring.

Sal-Mon was assaulted from behind by a previously unnoticed elf (security was fired afterwards).

Sephen chucked a pokeball at Sal-Mon.

Sal-Mon was sucked into the confines of the six-inch sphere, and remains there to this very day.

Of course, as with all tools of death and utter annihilation, the Ring did not submit to defeat that easily. Deep into its web of lies and deceit it ensnared the unsuspecting Sephen, bewitching his mind with allures of wealth, power, fame and ultra-rare pokemon. And standing on the end of Mt. Motar, the trainer found that he could not bear to part with such a rare gift. He would not destroy it; could not destroy it. And he ensured the continuity of heartbreak and headache for the elves by keeping it.  

And so it came to be that the dark Ring was given the chance to continue its baneful existence; ever watching; ever seeking; ever searching. For upon the day when Ring and Master were reunited, heaven and earth would crumble before their undeniable influence.

That's what the elves say anyway. It you asked Sephen, he'd claim that only cookies crumble; not destiny.

~End fic~

Lol…I had fun writing that. Hope you guys had fun reading it! ^_^ 

Anyways, that's it for my ridiculous slander of Tolkien's work-from here on, it's not going to follow the story that closely. 

What to expect:

"Frodo" gets the ring

Nine riders

Nine "Fellowship-ers"

Elves (and/or dwarves…maybe)

Legendary interference

What not to expect:

Original names (from LOTR books)

Original LOTR plot

Original LOTR events/locations

Other stuff that I do not include, but cannot think of right now

That's it for now! Tune in next time for the next chapter; chapter two! Wow! Wasn't that a creative title?

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the things that I own!  

Chapter 2

Of the Release of Sal-Mon

It was a typical, sunny day in Kanto. The sky was blue; with not a dark cloud in it, as is often the case when it does not rain. Ash Ketchum, aspiring pokemon master (along with his faithful companion, Pikachu), was following a rather intriguing yellow brick road in hopes of discovering the pokemart fairy. Needless to say, he failed dismally, and found himself on the outskirts of a rather menacing-looking land instead. Backed by the intelligence of his race, the sharp-minded boy immediately began to assess the situation, and use his amazing skills of deduction to plot a further course of action for the two of them.

"What do you think, Pikachu?" His asked, brown eyes ablaze with an unhealthy fire, "They might have rare pokemon there! Should we go in?"

The yellow electric rodent shook his head frantically, made several gestures of discouraging nature, and pointed repeatedly in the opposite direction. He produced a boldly lettered "DO NOT ENTER" sign for good measure.

"Pi! Pikapii! Chu!"

"I knew you'd agree!"

Firmly seizing hold of his pokemon's tail, the trainer then proceeded to walk headlong onto a muddy path, overshadowed by acres upon acres of rotting vegetation. Pikachu whacked its furry head in his wake, cursing the Fates for their incessantly cruel sense of humour in bestowing such an idiot as its lifelong master.

Ash whistled cheerfully as he skipped along the path of death, seemingly oblivious to the flaming arrows whistling past his ear ("What interesting bird calls,"), randomly flung axes ("Did you feel that draught?"), and perfectly normal red glowing eyes that followed them in the underbrush. In the meantime, Pikachu had engrossed itself in writing it's will, and praying to whichever god still watched over unfortunate electrical appliances. 

The aforementioned god, however, did not appear to be doing his job very well, for the very next moment, the duo found themselves at the rusty gates of a colossally tremendous black castle. Banners depicting the gruesome dismemberment of any and all trespassers hung from each of its thirteen turrets, and vultures, ravens and kites soared ominously above their heads. These, Ash immediately overlooked.

"'The Black Castle of Sal-Mon'," Ash impressed his now-trembling Pikachu with his incredible literary skills, "'only muffin delivery trucks, bakers, and pizza delivery guys allowed beyond this point'." He paused, "Well, I guess we're okay then!"

But Pikachu shook its head and pointed to yet another signboard.

'You have to be this tall to enter'

The chalk line included hovered several inches above Pikachu's head, and the pokemon faked a sigh of regret. "Pika pii chu…"

Ash's brow furrowed as he tried to jiggle his sedentary mind into a burst of creativity. Nothing happened.

"Oh well…I guess you'll just have to wait for me here,"

Pikachu fought hard to keep a disappointed expression. Perhaps Fate did have its little perks after all. 

The interior of the castle was, as its name suggested, black. It was also, pitch-dark, murky, and crawling with Spinarak, Weedles, and other unidentifiable species of the insect family. After stumbling blindly off walls for the better part of half an hour, Ash finally made it to the Throne Room. Or rather, Ash crashed through a brick wall after slipping on a bar of soap, and demolished a previously nonexistent entrance into the Throne Room. 

When the room stopped revolving on the spot, Ash discovered that it did, in fact, have lighting. Either that, or the blow to his head had done more damage than previously expected. In either case, Ash was able to make out the outline of a rather large and important-looking seat, which he instantly dismissed as a box of crayons. And perched on top of that box was a black sphere which his bruised brain interpreted as being a pokeball. Now, being used to helping himself to discarded pokeballs and escaping unscathed, Ash proceeded to seize it without any regard for the consequences. That is what one gets for automatically assuming that taking something that does not belong to you will result in a dramatic plot complication, and will end up with you winning a fight, getting thanked, and sappily waving goodbye as a girl sobs into a lace handkerchief and thinks that you are the finest creature to walk the face of the earth.

Naturally, of course, this did not happen. As the pokeball clattered to the ground and exploded in a flash of light, Ash was vaguely aware of the lights flickering, an unholy black mist filling the room, and several thunderclaps issuing from the unseen world beyond. 

"Raaaai…"

The next fact that lodged itself into Ash's mind was that Thunderbolts hurt, and flying headfirst through wood and stone and concrete was not at all good for the scalp.

Several miles away, on an uncharted island off the coast of Johto, Agatha, Queen of the Elves, readjusted her feathery pink stick-on Dragonair ears, and stuck her finger gracefully up her nose as the sun suddenly went out.

"The Age of the Idiots has begun," She whispered hoarsely to Lance, her unwilling subject. The dragon master stared at her in an odd way, and edged away as inconspicuously as it was elfishly possible. "Sal-Mon has been released. The War of the Ring will soon begin."

"Then we must find the ring," Lance made a tremendous show of stating the obvious, "before Sal-Mon gets his paws on it."

"Aye," Agatha frowned, further enhancing her prune-like appearance, "we must. Call up the Wise Trio. We need to meet with the Legendaries and seek aid from those who have been against his dark influence from the beginning."

"I thought they tried to enlist as Sal-Mon's apprentices, but were fired when they blew up half his troops in a freak magic accident?"

"Against…rejected…what's the difference?"

"Ah…" Lance took out his frilly purple cell phone and started dialing, "Anything else?'

"Yes." Agatha nodded, and her multiple chins wobbled to the beat, "I need you to find three trainers who are dim-witted and easily expendable. They will be the backbone of our search party, being the few who have opposable thumbs."

Lance took out a notepad and started scribbling. "Mmhmm…got it…"

"We'll also need an update on the whereabouts of the Ring. The last bit of info was given over two centuries ago, so it's going to be a bit outdated."

"Update…on…Ring…okay…"

"And re-dye your hair, won't you?" Agatha snapped, "That bright red colouring is getting on my nerves,"

"You're one to comment," Lance muttered under his breath, as the elegant Queen hitched up her grass skirt and marched from the room. "At least _my_ hair grows where it's supposed to."

~End fic~

Ha! Agatha's the Elf Queen; betcha didn't see that one coming! XP 

Pinky's got most of the Fellowship down…vacancies for a couple of roles though …any ideas? Don't wanna make them all pokemon…but the choice of humans are kinda…hard-pressed…-_-; 

In what unnatural places does Agatha's hair grow? I'll just leave that to your imagination, shall I? ^_^

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: If you think that I own LOTR and pokemon, you shouldn't really be reading this fic. Really. You shouldn't.

**NOTE ME!!**

Story will be put on hold until after Dec 19th. I'm moving soon; everything's going haywire!! Arrrgh!!!! _ Will continue writing if I can…just no updates once my comp gets shoved into its nice little cardboard box. *laughs evilly* That's for all those times it froze on me! At last! Revenge!!! XD

Chapter 3

Of Asho, and the Antagonistic Fellowship 

Prior to the rather unfortunate release of the Dark Lord Sal-Mon, legendary pokemon with psychic abilities, such as Mewtwo and Lugia, had already been able to predict the occurrence of such a blundering accident. This valuable knowledge was, of course, not shared with anyone important so as to give the Still-Free Peoples an edge over Sal-Mon's pending conquest. No, it was used for something far more productive-a quick and easy source of previously unattainable goods.

"I can't believe this," The phoenix-like Ho-oh griped, forking over his collection of microwavable popcorn dishes, "two hundred years without so much as a tremor from the Lounge; Lugia makes a bet that Sal-Mon's coming back, and hey presto-he actually does…"

From the opposite end of the Burnt Tower, Lugia smirked with an air of professionalism, and regally stuck out his tongue at the irked fire pokemon. Needless to say, it was burnt a short while later.

"Legendaries!" The hobbled, bent old leader of the Wise Trio wheezed, as Lugia rose and made to power up an Aeroblast, "We are here to hold council; not kill each other!"

"We are?" Raikou leapt to his feet, "Why didn't you say so? I'm outta here," And with that, he turned and loped from the scene.

Several other Legendaries also seized the opportunity to make a hasty getaway. In the end, it was only Mewtwo, Suicune, Ho-oh and Lugia that were left. Mewtwo had challenged Suicune to a mental game of Battleship, hence their unawareness of the current scenario, and Ho-oh and Lugia were too busy attacking each other to pay attention to anything else.

"Well," An even knobbier member of the Trio ducked to avoid a stray Fire Blast, "I suppose we could still…get down to business,"

"Yes. Well," There was a brief pause while all three struggled to remember the cause of the meeting. Old age, coupled with stress and the clamor around them, was doing nothing to improve their amnesia. Eventually, Lance raised his bright green head from his copy of _Elfish Haircare Secrets and decided to put them out of their misery._

"Queen Agatha, of the Elves of the Ignored Isle, requests that you send a group of legendary pokemon to aid Ash Ketchum in his search for the One Ring." He prompted. The Trio smiled, revealing jaws in various stages of toothlessness.

"Oh, yeah,"

A strange quiet fell upon the room. Ho-oh and Lugia had frozen on the spot (Ho-oh with his wings at Lugia's throat; Lugia with his tail embedded in Ho-oh's skull), and were staring at Lance as though he was evil's incarnate. Suicune suddenly became very interested in his paws, as Mewtwo blinked and silently digested the information.

The leader of the Trio nodded.

"We will need volunteers," 

Ho-oh pointed at Lugia. Lugia squawked in panic and pointed at Mewtwo. Mewtwo psychically assaulted Lugia with a wooden beam and redirected his indication towards Suicune, who shot an Ice Beam at the hazardous wing and froze it solid.

"Hm…since there are so few of you, I suppose that you could _all go!"_

It is said that the howl of protest still rings in the ears of Ecruteak's residents.

Ten minutes later, the four unfortunate additions to Ash's team found themselves crammed into a too-small meeting room aboard the previously ignored Ignored Isle. Lugia was nervously twitching his tail; Ho-oh wouldn't stop fanning his wings; and Suicune was sandwiched between a strange, spiky-haired teenager with crossed eyes, a ten-year-old with a neck brace, and a redhead who was talking to the wall. Mewtwo was wearing an expression which profoundly suggested that the next person who talked to him would never see the light of day again.

"Welcome one and all, to the Last Homely House of Johto," A voice wheezed. Seven pairs of eyes immediately turned to the source of the noise. A wrinkled old lady whom they had previously mistaken for a pile of unwashed laundry was beaming at the group with a face that was comparable to unkempt algae.

"Ahhh!!" Lugia grabbed onto Ho-oh; who launched forth a Fire Blast; which rammed into Mewtwo; whose eyes started glowing. 

"Die, foolish mortals! The torpedo Magikarps rule above all!" The furious cat-like pokemon let loose a psychic blast which flattened the room and all its occupants in 0.000015 seconds flat. 

"Ouch…" Suicune extracted his crest from Lugia's ribs. The three humans were flung backwards, landed on top of the grizzled bringer of dread, and were emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives. 

"That was completely unnecessary," Lugia complained, restraining the seething Ho-oh from getting his claws on an irate Mewtwo. 

"Yes. But it felt _real_ good," Mewtwo folded his arms and looked supremely unconcerned as Ho-oh struggled against Lugia's grasp, his face a shade redder than usual.

"I'll kill him!"

"Yes, yes; I'm sure you will." Agatha pulled away from the horrified kids, who were huddled up in a corner, frozen with fear. "But before you do, I must ask you to cooperate."

"With _them_?" Lugia jerked a thumb-feather in the direction of the trio of trainers, who had now begun to suck their thumbs for comfort, "I'd rather polish Ho-oh's feathers for a month!"

The phoenix looked interested in spite of himself. "Really?"

"No,"

Agatha took out a gnarled old walking stick and proceeded to whack the two birds over the head. "Listen to the Elf Queen!" She hissed.

Lugia gingerly fingered the extra horn he had suddenly sprouted, while Ho-oh nodded at one of the numerous stars which had taken to spinning erratically around his head.

"Gotcha, Boss,"

Agatha made a noise in her throat which was reminiscent to that of a rabid Growlithe. "Ash!" She barked, and the boy looked up tentatively, further spraining his neck in the process. "Since you were the one who freed the wrath of Sal-Mon, you shall be the one to avert it! You shall lead the Fellowship on a search for the One Ring under the codename Asho, and must destroy it when you find it. The fate of all of Downtown Kanto rests on your shoulders, Asho Ketchums. Do not let us down."

Ash-or Asho, as he was formally known-stopped playing with his shoelaces long enough to mumble out, "But I _like Tinky Winky…"_

Agatha thwacked him soundly with her stick of doom and the boy stumbled to his feet.

"Right," The semi-concussed biped gurgled, "I am Asho!" He grinned maniacally, "And together, we shall catch them all!" He started to strike a victory pose, but froze upon catching sight of the glint in the Elf Queen's eye. "I mean…we'll stop Sausage…err-Sauna…I mean…what was his name again?"

Lugia, Ho-oh, Suicune and Mewtwo enjoyed a brief moment of unity, during which they shot each other meaningful looks and shook their heads slowly.

"We're doomed,"

~End fic~

Well; what do you think? Will the Fellowship survive their strife against Sal-Mon? Heck; will they even survive each other? It's doubtful…but one, can hope, ne? ^^

And Trekkie, you'll be making your appearance in the next chapter^^. Can you guess which character you're playing? I'll give you a box of Oreos if you figure it out! XD

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Working on it…maybe in about 1366986 years or something they might actually consider my request.

Chapter Four

Of the Re-naming of the Fellowship and the Arrival of Stantler 

 "Okay," Ash said loudly, once they had been ceremoniously dumped out of the Ignored Isle, "since I am the guy who has the most important job, I am thus also the leader! And everyone must do as I say!"

The pause that followed was one of the most pronounced yet. The looks on the three Legendaries faces could not be more stunned if one of them had suddenly dropped dead. Lugia's jaw was hanging open; Ho-oh's wings were hanging limply by his sides, Suicune's eyes were starting to resemble dinner plates, and Mewtwo was standing stiffly, his eyes narrowed to the point of no return-any narrower, and they would simply cease to exist.

"No way…"

"Yes way," Ash grinned happily, impressing upon the throng his implausible debating skills, "and I say that I don't want us to be known as the Fellowship anymore." He folded his arms, "It's such an _old name…I want something more hip and up-to-date. Like 'Asho's Band of Poke-Hunters' or something,"_

Lugia's expression was akin to someone praying for patience, yet finding it very hard not to reach for a chainsaw. "We are _not_ hunting pokemon…" He growled. 

Ash snapped his fingers. "You're absolutely right!" He smiled, much to the amazement of everybody present, "I prefer the 'Poke-troopers'."

Ho-oh looked as though he'd been asked to take a bath. A cold one. Without a rubber ducky. "The Poke-_troopers_?" 

"Mmhmm…" Ash's grin was starting to fray Mewtwo's already waning patience, "You-" He pointed at Lugia, "will be known as 'Loggia'.  You-" Ash's finger drifted over to Ho-oh, who looked like he would have thoroughly relished the opportunity to bite it clean off, "will be known as 'Grimly'. You-" He ignored Ho-oh's splutter of rage and turned to Suicune, "will be known as 'Sammy' and you-" he pointed at Mewtwo, whose face was growing darker by the second, "are 'Poppin'." Ash looked pleased with himself, but the moment was short lived as Ho-oh fried him thoroughly, and Lugia sent him flying into a nearby palm tree. 

Mewtwo restrained himself with great difficulty and asked, "What about your two friends?"

"Oh, they already have their codenames," Ash said shakily, "Bedrock and Moody,"

Judging by the way "Moody" was attempting to use her Togepi as a hand grenade, the trainers weren't happy about the idea either.

The day dragged on in a monotonous series of arguments, scuffles, and the occasional Fire Blast or two. Travelling with Ash proved to be a more challenging prospect than previously expected. The boy seemed apt to visualising rare pokemon out of the strangest of things, such as a pile of leaves, or rocks. Finally, when Suicune had to use a Gust attack to keep Ash from falling off a cliff, Lugia simply tied the over-enthusiastic boy to Brock's backpack and left him like that. Ho-oh added the finishing touch by stuffing an old dishcloth in his mouth. To top it all off, Mewtwo discovered that Misty had been reading the map upside down.

"Didn't you notice the "right side up" print was the _wrong side up?" The cat-like pokemon was close to strangling the unfortunate girl._

"What are we going to do?" Suicune sighed and sat down, "my legs are killing me, and we could be _anywhere…"_

"I suggest dropping her into a river and seeing if she really will point north…"

Before Misty could begin getting nervous, however, the unfortunate group found themselves assaulted by a barrage of rubber-tipper peppermint arrows. 

"Chipolata!" A strangled war cry rang out from a distant thicket, "All shall fear the Cookie King!"

 All eyes turned towards the cloaked stranger who had charged into sight, his deadly plastic sword drawn and at the ready. "I am Trekkie!" He proclaimed, "The Ranger of many names. Who goes by the name "Hey, You!" to strangers; "Pay up!" to barmen; "The-Dude-Who-Owes-Me-Cash" to the Dwarves; "Smackhead the Odd" to the Elves-"

"That's all very nice," Ho-oh cut in irritably, "but what can _we_ call you?"

 "Well, I generally prefer not to be called by my real name," The Ranger winked conspicuously at Lugia, who did his best not to notice, "so I guess you can call me Stantler,"

"All right, Mr. Stantler," Lugia put on a very wide and very fake grin, pointedly ignoring the stick-on rubber antlers and brown furry cloak, "now can you tell us where we are, and how we could get to the One Ring?"

Stantler readjusted his custom-made Zorro mask and clicked the spurs of his knee-high boots together. "The One Ring…" He rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully, "I heard a bunch of weirdo's in Powerpuff masks talking about it…Very hush-hush business, but it seems they are heading down to Lavender to pick it up from a nutcase in a tutu…goes by the name of Grovel or something…"

"Uh _huh…_" Suicune's eyes were in danger of melding with his crest, "So…do you know how to get there?"

"Sure!" Stantler whistled through a gap in his front teeth, and an obese purple Ponyta trotted obligingly out of a nearby tree. "Just follow me!"

Five minutes later, the disgruntled group, now decorated with assorted twigs and leaves in addition to the already annoying Hoppip bites, emerged from the forest and stumbled ungracefully into the centre of the derelict ghost town known as Lavender. __

"Seeya later, Smiley," Stantler waved happily as the Ponyta assaulted a nearby woodman and started chewing his shirt right off his back. "Don't worry sir," He tipped his Butterfree-print cowboy hat at the petrified man, who was now reaching for a suspiciously sharp and shiny object, "if he has rabies, you could always go get a shot later."

Mewtwo looked away as the man started swearing at the top of his voice. "I suppose you would know that…"

Brock dumped Ash at a nearby food stall, whose owner had long since fled, for fear of catching that terrible disease known as idiocy. Ash, being Ash, immediately started to eat all the food he could get his hands on. And the stall itself, for that matter. Stantler, now sharpening his plastic sword with a flat rock, was looking at him with interest.

"You're that Ketchup kid, aren't you?" He jerked the sword in Ash's direction, and narrowly avoided gouging Lugia's eye out, "the one who travels with a Poker Card?"

"Pikachu," Mewtwo corrected.

"Poliwag?"

"Never mind…"

Ash hiccupped and blinked, amazed that someone had actually asked him a question which would require a marginally higher-level of thinking than the typical 'yes' and 'no'.  "I'm Asho Ketchums," He grinned, exposing the wooden splinters lodged between his teeth, "And I'm not related in any way to Ash Ketchup. I mean Ketchum. At least, I think it was Ketchum…" He scratched his head, "Too many names…but it's not like it matters or anything. I mean, there's no _way_ that I could actually _be _him or anything. Definitely not. I mean, I don't come from Pallet Town or anything. Nope. Sure don't! And it's not like my mom has a Mr. Mime called Mimie or anything either. No-siree; not me! And I _definitely do not have a pokedex with the code 655H65T. Nope. And er…what was the question again?"_

Stantler looked surprised. Or, to be more precise, he stared for a minute, then laughed so hard that he almost fractured a rib. "Whatever you say, Mr. _Ketchums_,"

Mewtwo looked as though he considered plankton to be more intelligent. "The irony of the situation would probably amuse me too, had I not been caught up in the middle of it," He grumbled. 

"Woe betides those who eat it for breakfast," Stantler said wisely, taking out a couple of grappling hooks from a concealed pocket. Swinging them over his head a couple of times, the Ranger then proceeded to fling them in the general direction of the PokeMart Motel. He quickly desisted when they landed about ten meters off course and brutally stunned a passing Dugtrio.

""Why…don't we just use the door," Suicune suggested quickly, as Stantler reached back into his pocket with the intention of extracting yet another useful little gadget that would give rise to a number of potentially deadly situations. "It's a lot less…complicated…"

"And safer," Lugia confided to Ho-oh, as the Poke-troopers boldly entered the premises. The old lady at the reception swallowed her pipe in shock at the sight before regaining her composure.

"Welcome to Lavender's PokeMart Motel," She said throatily, watching Ash with the kind of attention one usually reserves for untrained house pets. "Would you like a room?"

"We'd like more than one room," Mewtwo's concern was shared by all. "We'd like…_many_ rooms," His gaze drifted across the party, as though daring some unfortunate idiot to object. Of course, one did.

"But I can't sleep on my own!" Ash whined, clinging onto Mewtwo's feet, "And I need a nightlight too!"

The pokemon's eyes glowed blue, and Ash found himself securely embedded in the ceiling. 

"We'd like eight rooms," Lugia said firmly, as the old receptionist stared in a state of disbelief. Mewtwo folded his arms.

"Let the human sleep in the Tower," He snarled, "I hope the Gengars steal his soul and get it away from us for good!"

"I doubt they would want it," Ho-oh sighed, as Ash crashed headfirst to the floorboards and squished Misty like a bug, "I know I wouldn't,"

"Fair point," Lugia nodded, turning back to the receptionist who, despite her age, was resisting a heart attack quite resiliently, "and I would drop the charges, if I were you," He added in a conspiratorial undertone, "this is his _good mood. You should see him in the morning-" _

The sentence was cut short by a Shadow Ball, which bounced off Lugia's head, smashed into a banister, and did nothing at all to alleviate the poor old maid's worries.

"Here!" She yelled hysterically, so that her dentures fell right out of her mouth, "Take the keys! TAKE THEM!" She pushed a set of rusting keys into Stantler's hands. "Take them! Take the rooms! Just let me live!" And with that, she hobbled screaming from the scene, stopping only when she walked straight into the glass door (which quite clearly read "PULL", not "PUSH"). Stantler jangled the keys about happily.

"Wow!" He grinned, "I should have found you guys earlier! Just imagine the amount of travel cost I could have saved!"

~End fic~

Sorry for the reeeeally long wait. I've been moving, and my parent's cut off my internet a couple of weeks too early (Nooooooo!!!). So there you go, Trekkie-you get to play Aragorn! Or Stantler, as he's now known …XD And no, you can't have the Oreos! They're ALL MINE!! Muahahahahahaa!! *grabs a few boxes* XD Hmm…a pixie stick? Well, I suppose…*turns Karen into one and hands it over* There ya go! ^_^

Oh yeah…HP movie's coming out in _months!!! I can't wait that long!!! ;___; *knows that she will anyway* Bleh…but on the bright side, ROTK ruled!! Whooo!!! *Now officially thinks that Gollum resembles her obsessive Math teacher* My precioussss…*teacher huddles over tests papers, crooning and muttering to herself* XD That Steward guy was a real jerk, though. Toasting his own son…I was seriously rooting for the Nazgul's flying fiends to swallow him whole…-_- Or for Pippin to hack off his knees. One of the two. *chop chop scream* XD_

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Pinky no ownie

Chapter 5

Of The Entrance of Grandgolf and Sal-Mon's Moronic Band

Dawn assaulted itself upon the Poke-troopers with the abrupt insistence of a toothache. Sleepy, irritable, but determined, the party exited the soon-to-be-derelict motel, and imposed upon themselves the task of locating the elusive Grovel in such a large, vacant town.

"It's hopeless," Ho-oh moaned, narrowly avoiding walking into a 'You are 50 feet from Grovel' sign, "we're never going to find him!"

Sighing, Lugia pushed aside a copy of Grovel's driving license, which included a name, date of birth, current location, and favourite colour, and sat down. "I suppose you're right…"

Suicune collapsed to the ground in a heap, right over an intricate pattern of suspicious-looking slimy footprints. "All is lost!"

Stantler was crouched nearby, examining a set of Psyduck tracks with interest. "This seems to be the correct way!" He exclaimed with gusto, jolting the Troopers to their feet. "Quick! They are fresh; we might be able to catch up with him!"

Mewtwo's eyes took on a bluish glow, and Ash instinctively ducked. "My psychic sense tells me that we will meet nothing but trouble by following these tracks," He warned. Ho-oh rolled his eyes.

"Since when has your 'psychic sense' ever been right?"

The Troopers followed the excited Stantler without further objection, and soon found themselves embedded in cement-like quicksand that reached their waists.

"Not right, huh?" Mewtwo growled. Ho-oh grinned sheepishly. Stantler ignored the rather distracting slurping noises, and wrinkled his brow in thought.

"In times like this," He said wisely, "there is only one possible solution."

"There is?" All turned to him, suddenly hopeful.

"Yes." The Ranger opened his mouth, and took in as great a breath as he could. "HELP! SOMEONE!! ANYONE! SAVE US!!"

Had they not been immersed in consuming black muck, Ho-oh would have trounced him. Ash, eyes widened in surprise as he sampled the mess, quickly latching on to the plan.

"I can do that!" He happily proclaimed. He then proceeded to emit a series of nerve-wracking screeches that put Misty to shame, stopping only when Lugia shoved his head beneath the surface. Stantler had frozen in mid-yell, apparently too stunned to continue. Brock's teeth had been gritted so hard that they splintered, and Misty's eyes rolled up into her head. Mewtwo lapsed into the contemplative silence that usually occurs when one files away a horribly effective torture devise for later use.

"This is all very good," Suicune said in distress, "but how do we get out of here? I can't let this stuff touch my crest!"

Ho-oh muttered something incoherently; his beautiful plumage had already been tainted. But just in their most dire hour, when all vestiges of personal grooming bordered the line of destruction, a miracle occurred, as it so often does when the party involved is meant to bring about the salvation of life as we know it.

A rather elderly wizard wandered past, intent on stopping by the mart to pick up some Pokechow for lunch. He whistled cheerily, the cellophane stapled to his shirt resonating with magical light. Then, as if by some preordained sign, he tripped on a bloated purple Ponyta, slid down a hill, and ended up at the very edge of an ominous pit of sand into which eight entities were being absorbed. He stood there for several moments, fumbling with the glasses on his long nose to make sure they were not just specks of dust (that had happened the previous week. Very nasty business), when a shout of "_Help_ us already!" finally tweaked his ancient form into action. Gripping his trusty golf club firmly, the wizard waved it at the feasting sand, which immediately spluttered and retched, spewing the eight luckless tragedies from its throes and into a patch of poison ivy nearby. Smart pokemon like Lugia and Mewtwo were able to kick their levitation abilities into gear before they hit home. And the others? Well, let's just say it was not a pretty scene.

"Enlighten me again," Ho-oh winced as he fingered a large red welt on his beak. "Why are you a Ranger?"

Stantler scratched his neck and groaned. "I am well-versed in the art of natural lore and wandering and tracking and-argh! It itches!" 

Ho-oh nodded glumly. "That's what I thought…"

Lugia-try as he might (which he didn't) -was unable to keep the smug expression from his face, thus adding several burn wounds adding to the already growing list of afflictions.

Our dear travelers soon discovered the identity of their mysterious saviour. He went by the name of Grandgolf, an experienced golfer who was cut off from the Pewter national team when he sent a ball flying into Mount Moon by accident, tripping a land mine and blowing away a third of the Clefairy population that resided there. 

"Never has anything so dire happened before," The Mayor had said, tears filling his round, wet eyes, "how on earth could you have made such a grave mistake, _when the Pewter Gym was no less than three meters to the right_?"

And so, disgraced and offended, the fallen golfer proceeded to renounce his club membership, and picked up the dying trade of magic from a traveling aromatic gypsy. 

"Really?" Suicune sounded genuinely interested, as Lugia, now thoroughly bored, amused himself by transforming Ash into a splitting image of a raspberry pie. Grandgolf nodded.

"Yes, really," He chuckled, "just watch this!"

And with that, he made a pass with the club. A shower of confetti burst rather feebly from the end, fluttering briefly before drifting to their miserable demise. Ho-oh yawned very widely and obviously.

"Let's get going," Mewtwo said, finally coming to the conclusion that idiocy was, in fact, an incurable affliction, and one best left to its own devices. Stantler grinned broadly, and firmly linked his arm with Brock's.

"Righto!" He yelled happily, "Let's get a move on then! Nothing shall keep us from getting that pesky Grovel, and the Ring!"

At which the sky suddenly blackened, and a vast rumbling filled the air like an ear-splitting clanging of pots.

"A bit loud for a thunderstorm, isn't it?" Ho-oh looked around nervously. Lugia nodded in agreement, looking very disconcerted. Mewtwo narrowed his eyes.

"That's no thunderstorm…"

Stantler, suddenly seriously, knelt to the ground with a set of compasses and a set square, and noted the rate at which the oh-so interesting pebbles and other such particles of dirt were jumping in accordance with the almighty disturbance. "Well…" He said, jotting down a few quick calculations in a heart-covered pink notepad, "Unless I am very much mistaken, this foretells the coming of nine cloaked and alcoholic strangers, who are riding our way on the backs of nine very disgruntled Jigglypuffs, carrying the one called Grovel, and feeling very pleased about it-"

He was rather rudely interrupted, however, by the coming of nine cloaked and alcoholic strangers, riding on the backs of nine very disgruntled Jigglypuffs, carrying the one called Grovel, and feeling very pleased about it. 

"Oggly boogly boo!!" The eerie call rang through the ears of all present, as they hurriedly squeezed against trees and rocks to avoid an untimely demise. By the sound of it, the Riders were borne by their steeds in menacing leaps that would certainly crush anyone unfortunate enough to be left in their path.

"Oh my gosh! Ash!" Suicune suddenly remembered the antics of Lugia; but a fraction of a second too late, for at that moment, their was a horrible _squish as the ten-foot, red-eyed Jigglypuffs bounded by, foaming at the mouths and reciting verses of Shakespeare in between shrieks. The company had a brief glimpse of a blur of black and pink, and an unwanted view of Grovel being yanked in their wake._

"Precioussssss! Preeeecioussss!!!" The horribly deformed creature whined, before being hurled violently against a tree trunk as the Riders veered off to the left and out of sight. "PRECIOUS!"

"What did he say?" Stantler asked a disgusted-looking Mewtwo, but the pokemon merely shook his head.

"You don't want to know…"

"He said 'precious'," Ho-oh snapped impatiently, "What's so wrong about that?"

Mewtwo shot him a sharp look, and the phoenix quickly blinked to avoid being impaled. "That's the only word he can say. But it's not the only thing he _means_. Get it?"

Personally, Ho-oh couldn't see what was wrong with the word 'fu-

"Do you think it's safe to go check on Ash now?" Suicune asked.

Ho-oh, only half-listening, still couldn't see the downside of openly saying 'fuc-

"Well yes," Came a second tactful interruption, this time provided by Stantler, "they should be long gone by now."

Ho-oh finally gave up trying to complete his train of thought, and looked over at the crushed pie, whose sweet red sauce was flowing freely under the scraps of crumbs left behind. "Pastry road kill…"

"We should leave him." Mewtwo said firmly, "I'm sure that the inhabitants of this pathetic town would love to feast upon his remains. It would be the-err-_generous_ thing to do,"

"Right. And the fact that you hate him has nothing to do with it?" Lugia rolled his eyes as Mewtwo made a private note in his diary to personally maim him later.

"The turkey has a point," Grandgolf said, at which Lugia promptly self-combusted out of rage, "the Riders will no doubt hear about your quest to obtain the Ring, and will seek to cruelly capture and torment the leader of this group to prevent you from doing so."

Mewtwo pause a moment to consider, then shrugged and spoke with a small smile. "Well, who am I to challenge their will?"

Suicune shuddered and asked, "But what _were_ those horrible creatures?"

Grandgolf looked grim. "They are the Nosegrill; the Ring-Wrappers; slaves to the Ring and the Dark Lord. They were Gym Leaders once, bur alas, the arm of our enemy is long, and the allure of free caramel puffs simply too enticing to the greedy minds of men. Now they are but drones; miserable, cavity-stricken walkers of the netherworld. We will find no aid from them."

"Gee…did you figure that one out before or after they tried to squash us?" Lugia said grumpily, "Some all-knowing wizard _you_ are,"

"Yeah," Grandgolf blushed modestly at the comment, "isn't it great that I've decided to join you and help you complete your quest with my vast pool of knowledge?"

"I think it's great that after this, you'll be able to retire on your pension," Ho-oh said glumly, "at least _one of us has a sure future."_

~End fic~

Wheeee!! I'm having fun, are you having fun? I'm having fun! XD Okok…for those of you who haven't read my pointlessly updated stats page thingy, I've started a new school. Longer hours, crueler workload-you get the pic ne? Which means that I HAVE to finish this fic before I get swarmed! HAVE to, HAVE TOO!! Must must must, my precioussssss…*laughs inanely* Yeah well…just so you know…Oo;;;

Also, a great big THANK YOU to all my reviewers! There seems to be a sudden popularity with pixie sticks all of a sudden though…Oo; Ah well…^^ *hands out a whole bunch randomly* Knock yourselves out! XD Hmm…Trekkie takes over the realm of Johto…*makes a mental note* Now there's a new idea! I could do something about that mmhmm yep I could! XDXD

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.

Chapter 6

Of the Betrayal of the Ring and the Twisted Mind of Grovel

Now, in the previous chapter, we ran into a nasty little affliction known as 'Grovel'. As much as it would please us to take the lead of the rest of the Fellows-err-_Poke-troopers_, and just dismiss him as a passing mentally challenged duck, we will find this task incredibly impossible. Obviously because I am now about to launch into an entire chapter about the stupid little bas-_ket_. Basket. Yes. Basket…The basket case with the Ring. 

Right…where were we? Oh yes. Grovel.

Grovel was once a nice (or not-so-nice) little man who went by the name of Sephen. Remember him? If you don't, let's backtrack a bit:

_"The sequence of events went something like this:_

_Charizards__ trampled the Free Peoples._

_Pikachu__ shocked the Dragonair._

_Golem and Sal-Mon played poker. _

_Degenerate prisoner-of-war; a trainer by the name of _Sephen_, brought before Sal-Mon.___

_Sal-Mon laughed in his face and tried to use the Ring to turn him into a shoe._

_Sal-Mon dropped the ring._

Sephen_ grabbed the ring._

_Sal-Mon was assaulted from behind by a previously unnoticed elf (security was fired afterwards)._

Sephen_ chucked a pokeball at Sal-Mon._

_Sal-Mon was sucked into the confines of the six-inch sphere, and remains there to this very day."_

So, now that that's all cleared up, let's move on.

Sephen was a rather ordinary pokemon trainer. He went by the alias 'Mr Fuji', and spent his days in Lavender Town, pretending to tend to the dead souls of pokemon while in fact engaging in the typical, honest trade of Magikarp smuggling. He had no friends (well, living anyway), and tended to lisp, particularly when saying the word 'precious'; a trait which he proudly flaunted to anyone unfortunate enough to ask. He was confusing, erratic, and, as far as people were concerned, completely irrelevant to the proper functioning of society. In fact, the only reason he got involved in the war was because he took a wrong turn on his way to a local PokeMart, and got stuck to the hoof of a particularly careless Rapidash. In either case, he unfortunately got the Ring, and remained its keeper for a good hundred or so years, bringing jewelry-obsession to an entirely new level.

Anyhow, the Nine Nosegrill had captured the slimy creature using a carefully constructed trap consisting of pickled Magikarps and gum wrappers, and bore him away on their steeds of doom to their very, very secret hideaway. 

"Are you sure you guys are registered professors?" Oak asked, eying the giant Jigglypuffs with distaste, "I've never heard of anyone being allowed to illegally mutate pokemon before…"

"That's obviously because you haven't reported yourself yet," The head Nosegrill snapped, marching into the lab and dragging Grovel along by the ear. 

"Preciousssss!! Preeeciousssssss!!!" Grovel whimpered, as the Nosegrill strapped him to a chair and flicked on an overly large TV screen. "Precious?" He stared in horror as the screen began to display some of the corniest moments in Ash's pokemon history, including the part where he bravely threw himself in front of Mewtwo's fatal psychic assault and died, only to be revived a few moments later by the heartfelt tears of all the pokemon which had suddenly grown mortally attached to him. "PRECIOUSSS!!!!!" He screamed and began struggling, "PRECIOUS PRECIOUS PRECIOUS!!!!!"

The Nosegrill laughed in nauseating symphony, reveling in their leader's cruel and unusual means of torture. "Speak, filth!" One of them said sharply, "Tell us where the Ring is!"

Grovel cried and shook his head. "Precious precious precioussss…" He blubbered. The Nosegrill only snickered louder.

"We shall see how long you last,"

Obviously, it wasn't very long. Just as Ash knelt on the ground, hugging his faithful companion Pikachu with tears of gratitude and respect gracing his delicate eyes, Grovel cracked. 

"PRECIOUSSS!!!! Precious precious prrreeeecioussss….."

The head Nosegrill paused in the middle of dabbing his eyes, and the others quickly stashed away boxes of Kleenex, coughing in embarrassment. "Say what? Oh, right…" He blew his nose and approached the blubbering mass. "Where is the Ring?"

Grovel reached into a mouldy pocket and extracted a small golden circlet, though the shine was thoroughly tainted by the vast layers of muck surrounding it. The head Nosegrill took a step back, utterly revolted. "That's disgusting!"

"Precious precious…"

"We've been living as undead servants of the Evil too, and _our stuff isn't that repulsive!"_

The other Nosegrill nodded in agreement, taking into account their newly-shined Blades of Utter Death, and their sparkly Gauntlets of Scariness. Grovel scowled heavily.

"Precious precious precious….preeeciousssss…" He threatened, waving the Ring around. 

"All right! All right!" The Nosegrill growled, "Don't go all Elfish on us…we'll take it,"

"Precious?" Grovel asked curiously, handing over the Ring. The head Nosegrill quickly extracted a can of decontaminant and sprayed it thoroughly.

"Why Elfish?" He said, now scrubbing it with a toilet brush, "Haven't you ever _seen_ Agatha when she's in a mood?"

Grovel watched in silence, feeling that it did make some kind of sense. Another Nosegrill, this one with pretty pink decorative sequins adorning his tattered black cloak, released him from the chair.

"Thank you for being interrogated by the Nine Servants of Sal-Mon," He said, handing Grovel a lollipop, "here's your complementary sweet. Don't forget to fill out the questionnaire on your way out! Remember, the more you suggest, the more effectively we can torture you! Have a nice day,"

And with that Grovel found himself pushed out of the door, as the lead Nosegrill got out a flask of concentrated sulphuric acid and a buffing machine. Blinking in the sudden sunlight, Grovel mourned the loss of his precious Precious.

"Precious…."

He brushed away a small tear. Oh well, at least he had one small consolation prize. He grinned wickedly as he remembered the (rather forced) eagerness with which the Nosegrill had accepted his Ring. How nice of him…he hadn't even realized that formless wraiths were into slick and slimy. Whistling happily to himself, he skipped off into the trees, waiting for a chance to catch up with his proposed fiancée yet again. After a Magikarp or two, of course. 

~End fic~

Haha! I _told you he has a twisted mind! XD _

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Let's all pause a moment to think about this: would we _really_ want the Dragon to own pokemon?

Chapter 7

Of the Diary of Mewtwo and Bedrock's Unfortunate Passing 

_June 12th, 2000___

_I have recently awakened in a tank of icky fluid. Blue clashes with violet beauty of my eyes; liquid going to be hell to remove. Kill scientists. _

_Memo: Scientists dead. Place destroyed. What? Serves them right for claiming that Mew looks cuter than me. I can be cute! *Growl* Rebuild later…_

_January 15th, 2000___

_Place rebuilt. Let's see that cute-ass Mew top that! Lab now looks really cool. Stupid humans._

_Memo: Mew really _does_ look cute. Saw a pic of her earlier…wow! At least…I _hope_ it's a her. If it isn't, well…adjustments have to be made…_

_January 17th, 2000___

_Is very bored. Nothing here but blue sky, blue sea, and blue psychic energy. No wonder humans cloned pokemon! Have nothing better to do! Need company or I will go insane._

_January 18th, 2000___

_Some freak called Giovanni stopped by today. Classic 'bad guy' look to him. Decided to play along since I get a spiffy new helmet to mess around with!_

_January 19th, 2000___

_Bad idea. Helmet actually a mind control devise. Keeps getting interference from local human movies, some more revealing than I would like…broke out of Gio's pad today, trashed his TV. Bet he will be pissed. Actually, he is. How fun._

_Memo: Hate humans. Hate TV._

_January 21st, 2000___

_Back to boredom. Playing Guess the Card with Slowpokes. As if they could ever beat me._

_Current score record:_

_Mewtwo-13576625678786745245436_

_Slowpokes-0_

_Memo: Find more interesting folks to hang out with. Slowpokes speak funny, and are incredibly dull. Hate them._

_January 30th, 2000___

_Very bored. Have resorted to thought-surfing. Amusing results. Have discovered that Lance is not entirely honest with Lorlei about his romantic preference, and that the tough guy Bruno has a thing for older, much more scary-looking women. _

_Memo: Avoid Elites at all costs._

_February 9th, 2000___

_Got a greeting card from Lugia today. 'Happy birthday, and a Happy New Year!' Sickeningly cute Pichus shipped to me by the stupid turkey too. At least, they _would_ have been, had the weather not _suddenly _changed for the worse_.__

_Memo: Send coordinates to latest legendary meeting place to Eusine, and a vast number of professors, scientists and diehard trainers. Enjoy results._

_February 13th, 2000___

_Celebi__ called. Said I need a hobby. Or a mate. Suggested Zapdos. _

_Memo: Hate legendaries. On plus side, got to try out that new bug zapper I've been dying to use._

_February 14th, 2000___

_Have been pondering on the 'mate' idea. Think that Mew wouldn't be a bad choice…_Really_ think I need a distraction! Have decided to further torment the pathetic human race just because I feel like it._

_Memo: Kitties are cute…gah!_

_February 17th, 2000___

_People have actually come! I can't believe they understood my instructions! Engaged myself in utterly fulfilling expedition by venting my rage on a hapless public. Hate trainers. Hate humans. Hate crowds. Showed them my neato photocopy machine. Suddenly spouted clones. I knew the blasted Suicune was messing around with my stuff!_

_February 17th, 2000 (cont)_

_OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!! MEW CAME!!!!!!! Oh _damn _is she hot! Have decided to allow pathetic humans to go on living. Erased their memories and 'mysteriously' disappeared with Mew and my clones. But mostly Mew._

_Memo: Thank Celebi for the tip-off. Offer to pay for medical expenses._

Brock giggled softly, then glanced over his shoulder. The cat-like pokemon was still out cold, his tail twitching in his sleep. The trainer sighed in relief, then went on flipping through the small blue book.

_January 12th, 2003___

_Celebrated birthday today. Had a surprise party. Hate surprises…_

_Memo: Kill legendaries. Pretend to be happy and grateful to my huggable kitty-kins._

Brock's hand was in danger of being swallowed whole as he furiously tried to stifle his laughter. He flipped again.

_January 26, 2004___

_Ash is an idiot. Hate new name of fellowship. Hate Wise Trio. Hate humans. Hate Ring. Hate Ash._

_Memo: Destroy Asho Ketchums. Claim it was the work of the Ring. Miss my kitty-kins…want to go home._

_January 30th, 2004___

_It has now been over four hours since I last destroyed something, Brock. Isn't that funny, _Brock_? I know you're sad about it, BROCK. Oh, and in case you're wondering, I am not asleep, and I really do hate people sneaking peeks into my diary. Too bad you're the first to actually test that statement, _BROCK.

The Company woke to a shrill scream, and a strange gurgling sound.

"What was that?" Lugia asked, looking around. Ho-oh shrugged.

"Whatever it was, it's going to pay for disrupting my beauty sleep…"

"As if that would do any good-"

The second scream of the hour was courteously supplied by Lugia, who was mangled by a Sacred Fire attack. Mewtwo suddenly appeared, a strange smile on his face.

"It appears that our poor comrade Bedrock has fallen to the foul clutches of the Nosegrill." He said simply, removing a pair of rubber gloves. "'Tis a shame…I'm sure we'll all miss his talents…"

"Yep," Lugia said, as he fell back asleep.

"I'd kill him if he wasn't already dead," Ho-oh leant his support.

"I'm sure we could always get a Numel to carry the bags," Stantler gave his deepest condolences. 

And with that, the tragic departure of the faithful Bedrock was forgotten with difficulty, as Ash practiced throwing pokeballs against trees so that they ricocheted off and impaled him in the head.

"I coulda sworn that was a Sudowoodo…"

-End Fic-

Heyho YK! Yeah, I'll update the Saiyuki fic some time in the coming week. Just 'cause you asked…awww….XD

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. ^-^


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Still don't own. Sad, but true.

Heeey…soorrry peeps for the really long wait. Again. . RL's just been eating me whole…that and the fact that I have the concentration level of a rabid armadillo XD No, seriously. My lectures go something like "Ah…so the Sine Rule isn't part of Antarctica…now I wonder what Boromir would say if Frodo swallowed the ring with his lembas?"

Terrible, I tell ya. _Really_ need to stop slacking. Really!

crickets chirp

_Right_ after this story. And TV. And oh! All my books as well. And the Internet. And--list goes on

Chapter 8

Of the Rock Tunnel and the Dastardly Minions of Sal-Mon

With the tragic passing of their faithful, valorous companion Bedrock, the Poke-troopers found their spirits very much dampened, much akin to that of a rather miserable cat that has been left out in the rain for too long. Of course, the fact that it had actually _been_ raining for two weeks straight might have played some minor, insignificant, totally trivial role in the contribution to such discrepancy as well. Not a single moment passed when they did not pause to contemplate the sheer audacity of their position: Nine strangers-well, eight now-against One Dark Lord and a whole heap of minions.

"Is it too late to switch allegiance?" Ho-oh wondered, "I hear that Sal-Mon is looking for 'bright, patient, dull-minded oafs' to serve him tea in the afternoon. It was in the Classifieds…"

"Yes, yes…" Mewtwo carefully thumbed through the paper, "Says here that he's out for bloodthirsty Pika-Captains too…no prior experience needed."

"Brothers!" Stantler cried, leaping onto a rock with the stifling eagerness of a forgotten King trying faithfully to rally to his dwindling side a handful of bedraggled stragglers. "Is this what it has come to? Shall the evil of Sal-Mon and his treacherous manipulation of the mass media so easily sway our cause? We are fighting for a purpose!" At this point, he straightened regally, and a prepaid group of nomadic Abra lit up the background with a dramatically impressive Flash attack. "The fates of Kanto, Johto, (and my title of King) hang upon our shoulders! Shall we deny the Free Peoples the right to live their lives freely, without the need to adhere to the treacherous reign of a madman; a tyrant?" He paused for effect, "I have a dream." The statement was issued, wreathed with passion and possible delirium, as Stantler's eyes filled up with large tears, "That all the many races of this world shall stand united; not as physical shields, but as one undivided community, where all dwell in peace and sovereignty. Vote for me, and I shall ensure that none shall ever go hungry again!"

There was a long pause, wherein the Poke-troopers vaguely wondered if the Nosegrill would be willing to trade Grovel for their beloved Ranger. Stantler hopped down from his perch, still breathing heavily, and the company gave him a wide berth.

"Did I overdo it?"

"Oh yeah."

"But don't worry," Suicune consoled, "if people can't understand you, they can't possibly find fault with your ideals."

"Gee…d'ya really think so?" Stantler sounded vaguely heartened as Lugia banged his head against a tree and caused several Apricorns to dislodge themselves from the tangled branches and attach firmly to Grandgolf's long, straggly beard. Ho-oh stared in silent wonder. Wondering, that is, if there was some ancient Wizard-power that helped stuff grow in that unfathomable mass. It was already looking a little greenish…

"Yes. Well, in either case, we really should be heading off to wherever we are going." Grandgolf scratched his beard idly with his golf club, and several peculiar items-including a land mine, the winged sandals of Hermes, and a fire hydrant-came tumbling out.

"Careful, Stantler," Ho-oh grinned, "I think that old guy may actually have a more bizarre collection of stuff than you do,"

"Oh really?" Stantler's hand instantly went to his pocket, "Well, we'll see about that…"

"No!" Lugia exclaimed. "I mean…no, I couldn't bare such a pointless contest between er…good friends…" He hastily amended, catching the dreaded kingly glint in Stantler's eye. "We should catch up with Grovel and get the Ring. Then, you can show us all your…stuff…later." Much, _much_ later, he silently reflected.

"Aye…I suppose you're right…" Stantler sounded disappointed, but the idea of his prospective ascent to the throne averted any further argument. "So where to now?"

"We go to the Rock Tunnel!" Grandgolf cried, his tattered robes flailing wildly in some unnatural gust. Mewtwo shot him a look.

"And that will lead us to the One Ring?"

"No," Grandgolf answered truthfully, "but it will lead us to the One Pizza Stand, and I'm dying for a good slice of pepperoni and cheese…"

"Don't tempt me." Mewtwo said nonchalantly. His tone held the carefree coolness of a potential mass murderer who knows he has both the ability and will to dispose of a single individual in a ridiculously short time, "The Nine Nosegrill just might decide to make another house call."

Upon which Misty screamed and wrung Ash's neck so that the other's eyes almost popped out of his head. Lugia was about to state how utterly becoming the glazed look of a suffocating goldfish was of Asho, when a second shriek punctuated the still air.

"Okay, that's it. She better have an 'off' switch, or I'll install one right now!" Ho-oh actually made towards the frothing girl when the forest abruptly evaporated with a shrill 'ping!', and the company of Eight found themselves staring into the bottomless hood of a Nosegrill.

"Mewtwo…do us all a favour and never talk again…"

The cat's eyes flickered blue for a moment. Then, to everyone's surprise, he casually leaned against a tree trunk, crossed his arms, and flicked his tail innocently.

"All right."

Lugia's stunned silence didn't last for very long; out from the bushes leaped a herd of snapping, snarling Caterpie.

"I hate you," The dragon confirmed, as the Caperpie, with a howl of rage that could have put Erica to shame, firmly bound up the hapless Fellowship in iridescent pink bubblegum and bore them away.

Meanwhile, back in the Nosegrills' secret lair, the faithful, fearful spawns of terror and malice had encountered a little problem…

"I can't get it off!" The head Nosegrill howled with frustration, ripping at the strip of gold that now stood out prominently on his index finger. "It's stuck!"

"I'll go get my battle axe." The cheerful suggestion was met with a wrathful shriek as the deranged leader literally flung himself at his inept underling and pinned him to the ground.

"No!" He snarled, clearly articulating every syllable. Which isn't really saying much for a word that only has one. "No battle axes; no sharp, pointy broadswords; no meat cleavers; no rabid Squirtles; and if you so much as think of sticking my hand into a blender, Nosegrill number four, I will personally see to it that you spend your next thousand years as a concierge for Agatha!"

There was a general murmur of dread, followed by assorted clatters as the Nosegrill quickly dropped the aforementioned items in an attempt to appear void of guilt. The Squirtle, now very much irked, hissed angrily before scuttling away to a distant corner, rapping out a strange tune on its shell.

"So what do we do now?" The head Nosegrill didn't really know how long it had taken them to come up with such a question, and he didn't really care. All he knew was that a certain slimy, lisping degenerate trainer was somehow involved in this. And that certain slimy, lisping degenerate trainer was going to pay.

"Now," He said, getting up and resuming his 'I'm-in-charge-argue-and-die' attitude, "that slimy, lisping degenerate trainer is going to suffer an insufferable death!" He cackled evilly for several moments, before reality intervened. "Say…does any one remember his name?"

The Nosegrill looked at each other.

"Err…"

"Bob?"

"No, no, I'm sure it was Billy."

"Hydrogen Peroxide."

"That's not a name. That's the stuff you poured into our wine when you decided you wanted to play chef,"

"How was I supposed to know it was hazardous? Stupid Professor leaves bottles all over the place…"

"Oh, I know! Sméagol!"

They all stared at the unfortunate Nosegrill. Then the Nose King rubbed a sparkling hand across what might have been his face.

"I should have hired that band of Wraith Scouts when I had the chance. At least _they_ came with a free box of cookies."

-End Fic-

Sorry, YK! I forgot to do the Saiyuki ficcy…cringes to avoid tomatoes and/or fireballs I'll try to get to it soon, but I usually write better (better/weirder? Hmm…) in the spur of the moment, so be patient; it'll come to me eventually :p

And I just got ROTK on DVD! Whoo! Pinky ish happy now

Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? Juz click on the lil blue button below. -


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